Care
by WitchyWays13
Summary: "I'll fix him his tea, four sugars not three, and spend the rest of my life with him."


Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. I'd love to have them over for tea, though.

Care  
By WitchyWays13

"He takes his tea with four sugars. Never three. Four. No cream. And he adores biscuits. I always put three or four on his plate for his tea. He loves chocolate ones."

Hermione nodded, storing this in her brain for future use. She glanced down at her hand, the ring on her finger sparkling. She felt a thrill of delight just seeing it. It was modest, a small teardrop diamond on a gold setting. Ron had proposed to her three days ago, on her twenty-sixth birthday. They had had an engagement party at the Burrow last night. Now Molly had taken Hermione under her wing, determined to teach her how to feed and care for Ron.

Hermione chuckled at the thought. "How to Feed and Care for Ron Weasley." It sounded like a pamphlet the Ministry might put out, as if Ron were a creature one should coddle and adore. Well, adore was certainly right anyhow.

"Remind me, Hermione, to give you my chicken and ham pie recipe. And my steak and kidney one too. Ronnie loves his pies. . . Better give you the pork pie one as well. Have you made pies before, dear?" Molly was leafing through a stack of worn, stained recipe cards with one hand. Her wand hand was swinging back and forth as the dishes danced from the strainer to the shelf.

"Um, I made a mincemeat pie with my mum once. For Christmas. I was about eight, I think," Hermione said. Molly nodded, leaving the cards arrayed on the table and running over to salt a pot of soup. "I don't bake much." Hermione said sheepishly.

"Hmm, what was that, dear?"

"I said I don't bake much. I don't cook much either. I, uh, guess I've got a lot to learn." She chuckled, somewhat embarrassed by her lack of skill. She could tell you anything you wanted to know about arithmancy, ancient runes, herbology and magical history. But only three things escaped Hermione's logic: Divination, flying and cooking. She supposed it was because they are not easy things to learn from books, one must do them to get a feel for them. Easier said than done. . .

"Well, no better time to start." Molly shot a grin over at Hermione, sprinkling some pepper into her soup. The dishes had been put away, and Molly turned her wand to a stack of knitting on a chair. At once, the needles picked themselves up and began making a small blue cap, just the right size for the tiny head of the newest Weasley family member. Hermione had been named godmother to baby James Potter, born two months prior. He and Ginny were over the moon, and even Hermione, who had never really thought about babies before, was excited. Harry teased her and Ron, saying they'd better get married and have kids quick. A fleeting smile passed between the pair.

Molly was prattling on about the merits of using vinegar in a pie crust, but Hermione was barely listening. She watched the knitting needles clacking, turning out the tiny cap, and touched a hand to her abdomen. There was more reasoning behind why Ron proposed than just her birthday. Just two weeks after James' birth, Hermione had found out she was pregnant. Due at Easter time. She watched the blue cap and smiled.

Molly turned to her, pausing when she saw where Hermione's hand was, and the way that she gazed at the baby bonnet. "Hermione? Dear? Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

Hermione snapped her head round to look at Molly, and dropped her arms to her side. "Well. . . Now that you mention it." The warm brown eyes of Molly met Hermione's own, and she saw a knowing twinkle in them. Suddenly grinning, she ran into Molly's embrace. "You knew? But how?"

"A mother always knows, dear. I had seven children; I have a special sense about these things."

Of course, Hermione thought, glancing down again at her ring. She was perfectly happy at that moment, standing in the Burrow's warm kitchen with her future mother-in-law. A growing secret within her. Won't Ron be pleased? Hermione thought. I'll fix him his tea, four sugars not three, and spend the rest of my life with him.

End


End file.
